


Carnivale

by AllocateAloe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Danger, Dark Carnival Theme, Fight Scenes, Mute Frisk, Mystery, Non-Binary Frisk, Saving Alternative Timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllocateAloe/pseuds/AllocateAloe
Summary: Frisk has freed the monsters from the Underground, and rescued Asriel Dreemurr with the help of the studious, eerie W.D. Gaster. Life with the Dreemurr family is perfect, but lacks excitement.Now, the newly restored Dr. W.D. Gaster has created a timeline machine in order to study further anomalies with his research team, and Frisk finds themselves unable to resist an opportunity for another adventure.They journey to restore other timelines, and to defeat the evils that created further anomalies. What they didn't expect, was coming face to face with a decrepit carnival timeline. With only the disturbed, Cheshire Ticket Master as their guide, Frisk finds themselves trapped, and the only way out is to figure out what has happened in the broken, sickly world of Carnivale.





	1. Crossing Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy a new story that I've been working on for the past few weeks.  
> It will remain as PG-13, for language, fighting, and descriptions of death.
> 
> If you have read TAM/LWAL, then you will understand this spin off from that world, as this supposedly happens after the events in that series. For new comers, all you need to know is that Frisk, with the help of WD Gaster, returned Asriel to his former self. This background is not essential to this plot, for this story will be able to stand on its own regardless. 
> 
> Without further adieu, I present to you all "Carnivale".

            Deep within the throat of the mountain, a patch of wildflowers bloomed. Golden, as radiant as the sun that warmed their silken petals. Soft bits of pollen, lithe and glimmering, danced in the lingering rays of light shimmering down from far above. They wavered in a sudden rush of air, that hissed from the vents of an odd contraption set within their midst. The harsh metal was smoothed, cylindrical. Towering above the two children who stood in awe before it. They both had similar sweaters, clad in stripes. But only one wore a small, black backpack. The item contrasted against the purple, and blue, sweater they wore. Shoulder length auburn hair brushed across their neck, turning to look at the child beside them. The opposing youth was white as snow, and just as soft. His long, goat-like ears bordered a gentle face with beady doe eyes and twitching nostrils. He was frozen before the machine, his jaw tight.

The human child slowly outstretched their hand, and carefully wove their fingers around their brother’s paw. He blinked, suddenly remembering how to breathe as he met the studious gaze beside him. A sigh left his maw, and he relaxed his shoulders with a light laugh. “I-it’s more intimidating here, than in the lab. Must be the atmosphere.”

Then, the device opened. A rushing of air rustled the flowers around them, pulling their attention back to the machine as the round door yawned tentatively; spilling soft, violet light across their features. Inside, was hollow. Just enough for an adult to stand in- one with broad shoulders, and an imperial height. The two children marveled at the device, their grip tightening on one another.

“eh, doc- ya can’t just leave them wires be, can ya?” A sleepy voice murmured from behind the machine.

A terse snort then sounded within the cavern. The voice that followed was disembodied, each word laced in static. “Despite your indifference for cleanliness, Sans… It is best all wires be wrapped, and accounted for. It will allow for simple adjustments if need be.”

“not that these kiddos will need to worry about that.” Sans chuckled, stepping from behind the machine to peer at the two children standing in the meager glow of the lights within the pod. He wore his usual outfit, wrinkled, black shorts and a large blue hoodie that was drawn up, shadowing his porcelain face. “ain’t that right, Frisk?”

The human child nodded, a confident grin smearing across their features. The boy beside them couldn’t see the humor in the remark, and huffed loud enough for his neck to fluff up. “Well, I _hope_ we won’t have to worry about it!”

“timeline travel gettin’ yer goat, kid?” The skeleton chuckled.

Aghast, the child scoffed, attempting to regain some semblance of confidence as he shook Frisk’s hand from his own. Luckily, the eerie voice spilled back within the cavern as a large monster stood from behind the machine, and took a step back. “There is nothing to fear, young Prince.”

The children regarded the towering monster as he inspected his work with a single, critical eye. For the other remained damaged. His right brow slumped before the socket, a jagged crack running from the eyelid, tearing through the uppermost part of his skull. The other side of his face was also damaged, a cynical split running down from the left, milky eye, to his jawline and hugged along the side of his neck, curving along to the front of his chest. Further damage was blocked from view, covered by a formfitting, dark zip up; the hood laying bunched across his shoulders. Yet, as he adjusted his rolled-up sleeves, each arm was coated in thick, blackened scars of a war long ago. The damage was almost as distracting as the holes in each palm, pierced straight through, with a perfectionist’s taste in mind.

This monster stood far above the others with him, clasping his hands behind his back as a light breath of air escaped his lips. His sharp fangs glistened in the golden light, bordered by grisly, obsidian gums. “Everything is ready.” He cast his gaze to the side, drinking in the nervous expressions of each child. “For two time travelers, this should be a rather… simple task.”

“Beside something going wrong, and we get stuck in the void.” The goat breathed, folding his arms across his chest. “At least we will have that in common, G.”

The lich smirked, keeping his focus on the monster child while Frisk stepped up to the machine, leering inside of it to look around. The skeleton watched them idly, stuffing his bony hands within his jacket pockets. Gaster continued, “My, my… Asriel, we already have something in common. Being revived has not been possible for our kind-”

“Well, until _you_ , you mean.” Asriel loosened his stance, staring upward at the scientist who chuckled. The tickling reverberations filtered outward across the flowers, and caused the goat’s ears to flick.

“Yes, I suppose so.” The lich stepped further around the machine, standing behind the children as Frisk gathered their bravery and stood within it. Their fingers curled into fists, hovering beside each hip, and kept their back to the others. Sans raised a bony brow, his sockets squinting as a silence fell across the cavern. The child closed their eyes, and breathed deeply.

Asriel craned his neck to look up at the lich standing behind him, worry crossing his furry face. “I know you’ve told us many times before... But… What exactly should we expect?”

“The anomaly we found is quite strange...” The doctor began, taking a moment to find the proper words before continuing with a warbled, distant voice. “When you step from the machine, the world may be very different. The only similarity between our world, and the other, is this specific starting point. Which is shared throughout all of the timelines we have studied over the past few months.”

“you can always change yer mind, kid. nobody is makin’ ya go anywhere.” Sans said, coming to stand just beside the anxious child. The undead monster stood slumped, per usual. His white eyes glittering against the shadows of his raised hood, highlighting the edges of his sockets.

Asriel swallowed, then turned towards the skeleton. His resolve was forced, but he was determined. “Frisk wants to go. They know they can help other timelines, not just this one. And… And I won’t let them go alone.”

The skeleton nodded, his neutral grin softening. The lids of his sockets drooped ever so slightly, while the lich spoke once more. “You two are our perfect candidates. Frisk has ultimate knowledge, and experience, with correcting a turbulent timeline. My current existence is proof of that. As is yours, Asriel.” G lifted his gaze, studying the still child within the machine. So small, yet the confidence that radiated from their soul was nearly blinding. He had the urge to raise his own hood, as well.

Curiously, Asriel turned to look back up to the scientist. His gaze honed onto the machine. “We’ll be back in time, won’t we?”

The lich blinked, slowly bringing his gaze downward. His features veiled in the waning light of the afternoon sun. “We are… unsure if this errand will have any effect on the time in our world. You could be gone for a second, or, perhaps days.”

Within the machine, Frisk lowered their chin. Standing with resolve, listening to the conversation behind them with a soft flutter of their own heart. Though, it was Sans that answered.

“heh. should be fine.” He shrugged.

“Sun has been… _‘moody’,_ as your mother likes to say.” The lich interjected, his verbiage becoming a tad flustered. “I doubt you will be gone for any longer than a month. As most timelines are measured in a few weeks once the starting point has been introduced.”

“if ya do come back, an’ see doc with a cane…” The skeleton murmured, leaning in on Asriel as he whipped his head around to stare at the monster looming just above him. “you know at _least_ a day has passed.”

Perplexed, the child furrowed his brow. The lich huffed, rolling his eyes as the skeleton chuckled.

Asriel sighed, waving Sans away from him as he breathed. “Fine, fine… okay, no more delays.” He slowly inhaled through his nostrils, drawing in as much air as he could. He paused, then flushed his lungs in one, sturdy breath as he stormed forth. His paws easily parted through the flowers, careful to not crush them, as he stepped up into the vat, and looked around him. He was met with a polished surface, and a few LED lights embedded into the floor and ceiling. Painting his coat a soft lilac hue.

The goat turned towards Frisk, eyeing them carefully. “Frisk…? You okay?”

For a moment, the child didn’t respond. Then, they released a soft sigh and lifted their head once more. Frisk glanced over, their eyes alight with Determination. With a sharp grin, they raised their thumb. Ready to go. Asriel giggled, and nodded, the both of them turning about to face out of the machine. Together.

“Now, to be sure you remember this well… I will instruct you, again, on how to operate the machine.” G stated, his features lifeless. Sans rolled his eyes beside him, shifting his weight onto his other leg while the lich carried on. “Once the doors close, you will be presented with a manual pad. The route has been configured to travel to this other timeline, and back again. In order to do this, you must-”

Frisk suddenly signed rather harshly with their hands, their movements stiff, and quick. Asriel nodded, a light smirk tugging at his lips. “We know… push the big, blue button.”

The lich stood still, a thin line forming in his brow. The children snickered, and even Sans dared a glance upwards. The edges of his grin twitching. G chuffed within his throat, the sound breathy and repetitive. His more bestial side always became more present when agitated. He cleared his throat, breaking up the airy clot in his windpipe, and inclined his head. His voice sparking with static. “We await your successful return, children.”

“or unsuccessful.” Sans chimed in, winking at the two within the pod, shrugging his shoulders. “we won’t judge.”

Frisk glanced towards their brother, and Asriel met their cautious gaze with that of brilliance. He clasped his hand within Frisk’s, and announced. “Successfully.” The human child smiled, and bowed their head in return.

“Very well.” The lich announced, lifting his right hand from his back, and waved the appendage out before him in a swiping motion. The door then hissed, and began to swing shut. “We will see you again, shortly. I am sure.”

The two children kept a grip on one another, and met the dim, darkness of the pod with bravery. The subtle, violet light above, and below them, bathed them as the panel then locked into place. Then, right before them, a touch paid lit up with a gentle, passing gradient of color. There was only one thing upon it, a glowing, round, blue button.

“…Seriously?” Asriel muttered, earning a giggle from beside him.

They gave each other one last look, raised their opposing hands, and pressed the button together. The machine whirred to life around them, and they both looked around as the metal began to shudder. There was the distant sound of spinning, the rushing of air, and the shuddering of the vat that contained them. Subconsciously, they pressed tighter together, gritting their teeth.

From the outside, the lich watched with a bored expression. Both hands tucked behind him. Sans pulled his shoulders back, tilting his head as the vents of the machine pushed air out across the flowers. The wind was mild, at first. Then grew, rushing into a hot torrent. The force tore a few petals from their stalks, casting them into the air. The golden, silken fans spindled wildly throughout the cavern. The wind tore at the monster’s clothes, whipping their bodies fervently. Yet, they stood in silence, unaffected by the machine’s violence. And then, with the sudden shudder of a blast of energy, and in the blink of an eye, the pod vanished.

***

With a harsh shake, and a shudder, the children clung to one another within the rickety confines of the metal pod. Both of their eyes were shut closed, tears threatening to spill. Then, the violence subsided, and the machine halted. A click resounded, and tentatively, the two opened their eyes as the sliding door hissed and began to yawn open once more. In poured brilliant moonlight, milky and sullen as dark, twisting vines licked at the entrance of the pod. For a moment, they breathed in unison, releasing the tension within their bodies as they stared at this new, outside world.

It had worked. They had been taken out of the timeline. But this world, this timeline, was far from familiar. No longer within a cavern, this world was set far above ground. Yet, the sky was painted pitch with soot, and the forest surrounding them was just as grim. Their blackened trunks stretched far around them, clustered densely together. There would be no passage between their vile trunks. These wretched trees hugged along a small path twenty feet ahead, leading out from their starting point. This, was the only similarity to the Underground. The pathway.

Asriel unwove himself from Frisk, and leaned forward, peering out of the door. A blood colored crown drew Frisk’s attention, and they froze, their eyes widening in shock. Asriel braved to lean a bit farther, and displayed his thick, spike ridden, olive green stem.

With a sigh, he murmured. “It certainly _looks_ different…”

He then turned, glancing at Frisk. The childish sweater they had worn had transformed into a dark, form fitting jacket. Tight in the midsection, and high collared with a maroon bow tied taunt at the hollow of their throat. Shimmery buttons aligned parallel down their midsection, leading towards a short skirt peering just beneath. Tulle bunched, and bodied the bloody diamond patterned ruffle pressing down upon it. The fabric hung midway down Frisk’s thighs which were protected by soft spun leggings. Their tan boots had also turned into squeaky black leather, adorned with crisscrossing belts and silver buttons. Even the backpack straps, pulling at Frisk’s shoulders, were a decorated, haunted paisley.

A slight chuckle bobbed the layered petals surrounding Asriel’s flattened face. “You look different, for sure. Nice threads…” He then peered into Frisk’s horrified expression, noticing how their hair had also changed. Straight cut bangs, in the style of a black bob. “And hairdo…”

Frisk’s unwavering, startled expression drew a cross look over Asriel’s face, his petals quivering. “What-?”

Hesitantly, Frisk brought up their hands. Instead of signing, they pointed straight at the Prince. For a moment, he merely raised a brow. Frisk eagerly prodded in his direction, and finally prompted Asriel to look down. He was met with a bunched rim of ruby petals, resting just beneath his chin. His eyes widened in utter horror, and he instantly whipped his head all around. “No-! No, not again-! _This isn’t fair!_ ”

Raising his hands, came two strong, prickly leaves. Craning his head every which way, he discovered a thorny stem. The solid, tangled mass of roots he stood upon drew tears into his eyes. They cascaded down his face, and spilled like fresh dew down his rose petals. Frisk shook their head, carefully wiping away their brother’s tears. He forced a laugh, spilling further water into Frisk’s hands. “I s-suppose we w-will fit in just fine. I-it’s only temporary-!”

Against his own optimistic words, a light quiver took hold of his body. Frisk allowed him his moment to gather himself, comforting him the best way they could by kneeling at his side within the metal pod. The lights within having faded into inactivity. Eventually, Asriel pushed Frisk’s hands away, and rubbed at his own face with a groan. When he looked back up, he was being lifted from the floor and settled within the canvas bag. It was fitted with a few extra, checkerboard pockets, but still contained the items they brought. Some snacks, a small pouch of gold coins, a cellphone, and Frisk’s lucky stick. Asriel had been opposed to bringing it, but he found it useful to now prop himself up against, wrapping his stalk around the discarded branch and lifted his head up out of the top of the bag.

It was a few awkward moments until Frisk had situated the bag correctly on their back. Asriel had been trapped as a flower for so long in the Underground, being a plant again was at least familiar; except for his new thorns, which poked against the inner lining of the pack. He kept his head poised just over Frisk’s shoulder, and with an agitated voice, he spat. “ _All right_ , all right… let’s go get this over with.”

With a firm nod, Frisk stepped from the machine and into the throng of thorns curling up around their ankles. The stiff foliage snapped and crackled with each step they took, the thorns scratching and gouging Frisk’s leather boots. Clutching fingers snagged at Frisk’s feet, trying to trip them, trying to hold them back. The child grunted with effort, and strove onward. Determined. Luckily, the soles of their new boots were thick enough to avoid puncture, but slogging through the mass was taxing. They waded further, and further away from the machine, left sitting alone amidst the brambles. Hazy moonlight flooded the path ahead, and as soon as Frisk’s feet met the unhindered dirt, they sighed in relief.

Frisk then walked on down the path, not even sparing a backward glance. The trees on either side of this new pathway were towering, demented spires. Their branches sharp, knotted, and the canopy was bare of life. No leaf, or bird, to be seen. The idle, tender creaking of old limbs prompted Frisk to pick up the pace, and they hurried along. Asriel glanced up at the moon as he was rocked in the pack, setting his leaves upon the edge of the open zipper while narrowing his eyes. “It’s so bright… but everything else… even the trees- and, if you’d call that _grass_ , are all so dark. It’s…”

Frisk glanced over their shoulder, signing. _‘Sad?’_

“Creepy,” Asriel gulped.

The menacing atmosphere of the wretched woods weighed heavily upon them. Still, they continued forth. All was still, silent as stone. The occasional bow of a branch, or scuffle of dirt from Frisk’s boots, the only noise that dared raise itself from the sickened place they willingly trudged into. It felt… dead. And without the moons guidance, it was all too true a possibility that Frisk would have been forced to return to their timeline. It would be utterly pointless to fumble around in thorny, stinging weeds, and a forest that seemed to be never ending. The thought to turn back crossed Asriel’s mind more than it did Frisk’s, but it still garnered a frown from the child, who strove deeper, and deeper within the wilds.

Then, in the distance, warm, flickering lights. Frisk fell into a light jog, which truly made Asriel frown as he was forced to brace himself against the jostling bag holding him. Within a few minutes, they burst from the small path, and came upon an open, yellowed field. The grasses here had fallen long ago, dried in clumps while brambles twisted in patches here and there. But the true sight to behold, was that of the large, rot iron fence, and the shadowed buildings just beyond it. The silhouette of a Ferris wheel reached to the sky, while worn, tattered flags hung lifeless atop greyed, sagging tents. The natural light from the moon wasn’t enough to pierce whatever veil lie draped across this place. Smothering it.

Yet, at the entrance just beyond them… A broad, flickering neon sign loomed on high. Struggling to stave back the darkness. Burst bulbs, and sparking wires, dimly lit the weathered welcome.

**_CARNIVALE_ **

Flummoxed, Asriel scrunched his nose. His petals quivering in turn. “Car-carn… E-vale?”

Frisk stood utterly agape at the horrid sign. Rust had eaten through many places, leaving weathered holes bordering the hollow lettering that had its casing shattered long ago. Resting in wait just beneath the poorly sign, sat a large gate. Nestled beside it, a hobbled shack. And inside, another light flickered. A sullen figure, hunched over the desk, shadowed within. Motionless.

Without further hesitation, Frisk moved forth. Asriel clutched to the bag, and stammered. “Heheh- Frisk. It already seems a bit late to be here. Th-there must have been some mistake, let’s go back.”

Frisk didn’t respond, and continued to close the gap with this shack. Asriel sunk within the bag, peering over Frisk’s shoulder warily. A shiver quaking along his thorn ridden stem. The closer they became, the more details they could see. As if stepping through an invisible fog. At one time, this shack had been well maintained, colorful, even. But now, it sat in waste. Splintered, ram shackled. It too had a sign. The wooden board above the silhouetted figure was painted in intricate, peeling calligraphy.

**_TICKETS_ **

Slowly, Frisk stepped up to the counter. Tentatively setting their hand upon the warped wood. The figure shifted, lifting itself up, and leaning forward. Bright, rounded, ultraviolet eyes faded in, and honed in on the child standing firm before the shack. The lilac blue wash of light illuminated the bony features of a wicked skeleton, a sharp carnivorous grin etched high within his cheek bones beneath a pointy, drawn hood. The fabric was thick, dusty, and had unskilled patches of thick twin stitching along each side. Eerie lavender light lapped at the eaten edges of the cowl pulled far too forward. The fabric was thick, soaking the meager light of his hellish eyes. Whilst frayed tender threads drifted outward, played by an unseen breeze.

Asriel gasped, whispering. “S-sans?”

The monster leaned further forward, nearly pressing over the counter, but halted suddenly. A subtle jingling sound tickling the air. His sockets widened, his grin twitching higher beneath each dilated eye. He then opened his mouth, lined in jagged, sharp teeth. “Five gold.” His velvety tone wavered the air.

Frisk raised a brow. The skeleton slowly drew his arm from the desk, lifting a hand to tap his pointer finger against the counter. He tapped a few slow, mechanical, times. His gaze never waning from Frisk who challenged his gleaming expression with one of neutrality. Their odd moment of tension continued to wind, he seemed to have no intention of looking away… let alone blinking. Frisk then glanced downward, as they were instructed. Beneath the counter lay another painted board.

**_5g per ticket._ **

**_*Tickets cannot be taken from premises, or refunded*_ **

**_*Excessive questions may be priced accordingly*_ **

**_1 ticket per entry._ **

**_1 ticket per ride._ **

**_1 ticket per show._ **

**_2 tickets for concessions._ **

 Whilst Frisk pondered over the sign, Asriel ducked within the bag, grumbling to himself. _“Of course, the concessions are the most expensive…”_ The thorny flower rose himself back up from the confines of the bag, stretched himself up to the counter, and unfolded a leaf to place one 5g piece on the wood. The coin spun idly on its axis, and the monster merely glanced at it, quickly flicking his attention to the rose who swallowed dryly.

“Each.” The monster chuckled, a throaty noise, tipping to a higher pitch. His hood quivered with the action, and the jingling sound returned.

Asriel huffed, scrunching his features, lingering an eye on the skeleton that leered at him. His sharp teeth hovering open, eager. Frisk felt a bead of sweat slip down the back of their neck, while Asriel calmly went back into the pack. The rose rummaged for a brief moment, but it was long enough for the skeletal monster to then focus upon Frisk once more. He winked. The shadows beneath his hood merely snubbed his left eye for a moment, before the ultraviolet pupil bounced back from the void. It was odd enough of an action that Frisk knew the intention, and winced.

With a quick motion, Asriel dropped another coin onto the table. This one clinked against the broken wood quite loudly, and a bony hand swiped them both from the counter. His digits scraping across the uneven surface. Finally, his attention was taken away from them, and both the children sighed in relief. They heard the softest of tearing, and the monster quickly held his hand back up again. Two, glittering golden tickets held betwixt his fingers. He grinned to them curiously.

“Two tickets, for ten gold…”

Asriel leaned forward, extending a leaf- but the skeleton snickered and swiped his wrist back. Balancing each ticket on his forefingers. The ticket master then purred. “And, one question.” The monster’s lids drooped, cutting his glowing pupils in half.

“Are you serious? Just let us in!” Asriel spat, balling his prickly leaves into fists. His thorns bristling along his stem.

The skeleton chuckled, again. The sound tittered through his throat, and out his open mouth, shaking his shoulders. A jingling rattled within the shack. “Just. One- question.” He breathed, that sharp, unrelenting smile prodded deeper into his cheekbones.

Frisk nodded, and Asriel sighed loudly, tilting his head back in exasperation.

“Have you seen…” The skeleton lowered his voice, dropping his arm back to the counter as he leaned upon it. Slipping the tickets back between his fingers, lining them up perfectly. He flicked his gaze side to side, before quickly locking back upon the patrons before him. “My brother?”

Frisk blinked quizzically, drawing their eyebrows together and turned to look out across the wasteland behind them. Dried blades of grass were too great a burden, and lay limp across the parched soil. Frayed amongst the knotted thorns bending through their flocks. Asriel folded his leaves, not bothering to subjugate himself to the horrible scenery again. He slouched his stem as he spoke curtly. “Unless your brother is a pile of dirt, or a dead weed.”

“No,” the ticket master chuckled cheerily, his eyes flashing a crimson hue as an edge drew through his tone. “But you could have had that in common.”

Asriel’s expression fell all the further, obviously not enjoying himself. Frisk, on the other hand, turned their focus back upon the monster leering at them. Staring him straight in the eye. Frisk slowly, solemnly, shook their head and a slight frown crossed their features, apologetic in their denial. The skeleton stared at Frisk for a moment, seeming to gauge their authenticity. Then, he passed his arm forward, tilting his hand out to show the tickets still pinned between his pointer, and middle finger. A light echo entered his words, along with a laugh. “Welcome-,” metal clanged, the gate unlocked. “To Carnivale.”

Frisk took the golden paper, plucking it from his hand. The sound of a squeaky latch rang out across the field, and the gate painfully swung open. Parting its robust, heavy iron bars just enough for the width of a child to pass through. Frisk did not give one last look to the ticket master, who eyed them hungrily as they walked from his station, and to the entrance. They stepped through the opening, gazing all around. The gate swinging shut behind them. Resounding with a loud lock of a strong bolt.

The ticket master tucked his chin to his chest, and chuckled. His shoulders quivered as he laughed gaily, a playful jingle ringing throughout his shack. It was his eyes, dilated, and aflame---highlighting his cruel, sharp grin---the last to disintegrate into nothingness.


	2. What the Ticket Master knows...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ticket Master is full of riddles, and while Asriel finds it irritating, it only inspires our young hero to venture onward.

Inside, they were met with utter emptiness. Lifeless. The main street laid before them was coated in dirt, bits of trash left unkempt and free to wander with the passing wind. The only source of light, and color, was that from the gothic lamp posts bordering the pebbled path. Two on each side, a submissive flame sat within the glass prison of each. Red, orange, golden shimmer, ocean blue, twisting chartreuse, and even tempered violet. Hesitantly, Frisk headed inward, ignoring the diverging pathways on either side in order to step within the center of the carnival.

Asriel sighed, “Frisk, let me take the tickets- I’ll put them in the bag.”

Blinking rapidly, Frisk nodded and lifted the golden paper up to their shoulder for the rose monster to take. They were so busy staring at the decrepit scenery that they hardly noticed Asriel’s repeated tapping against their bicep.

“Hey- This is only one ticket. I need the other one too.” He grumbled, tucking the ticket away. When he looked back up, his eyes met with Frisk’s confused expression. “Well c’mon, don’t just stare at me. Give me the other one too.”

The child scrunched their features, slowly shaking their head. Frisk raised their hands before them, and signed widely so that Asriel could read their sign language. _‘I gave you them, aren’t they both there?’_

Asriel leaned his head back, a loud groan leaving him. “That damn skeleton ripped us off!”

 _‘Well… we **are** both in here.’_ Frisk ventured, forcing a sheepish smile. _‘It’s not like we will be leaving until we fix this timeline anyways...right?’_

Asriel was doing his infamous ‘G’ impression. His mouth a tight line, and his brows completely level. Unamused.

Frisk sighed, bringing their hands up to the straps of their bag, gripping onto them with uncertainty as they glanced about while Asriel grumbled to himself. They moved forward, passing by grey, worn out tents on either side. Torn, ragged posters of performers hung in pieces, pinned to the worn tents they passed by... A spider-esc woman, wrapped in silk, draped from on high… A sword swallower, large, flowing fins draped away from her greyish scales. And, of course, a fire eater- of a man made from flame, wearing a singed, pinstripe suit and a cracked monocle.

“Hey Frisk-” Asriel shook their shoulder, garnering their attention before pointing out past their nose. “-look. It’s mom.”

Frisk blinked, following the prickly leaf to the side of the street. A ripped poster lay sagging up against a trash can, the top edges draped down across the painted figure, obscuring her face. But her long, white ears and gentle smile gave her away. Toriel. Frisk quickly stepped over, kneeling down to carefully push up the bowed poster. They both stared at the image of a fortune teller. Her eyes were closed, draped in elegant, starry robes with a crown of jewels atop her head. She was poised, her soft hands waving about a crystal ball that reflected a reddish eye glinting outwardly. The script above, and below her, was too far gone to be able to read. The paint having faded long ago.

“I wonder what that makes Dad…” Asriel murmured. Frisk sighed, standing once again to continue down the path. Their head churning in thought as the rose went on. “Probably the Ring Leader, right? That only makes sense, since he is the King in our timeline…”

Frisk shrugged. Stepping into a large, open area at the center of the carnival. The Ferris wheel sat decrepit and unattended at the far end, hugged by a rusted carousel. Its horses blinded, cracked, and bitter. Haggard shacks sat on either side of this drab field, leading up to the entrance of the rides. Some, from what Frisk could read, were arcade games. Others, concessions. Lines of triangular, faded flags were struck up along each modest building. The colored lights from the lamp posts flickered idly upon their once shiny surface. For a moment, Frisk stood still, looking about all around them. Then turned about in a slow circle, in awe. And yet, uncomfortable.

“Where… where is everyone?” Asriel asked, receiving no answer, for all Frisk could do was frown.

Turning about face, Frisk hummed to themselves, glancing between the abandoned shacks. It didn’t take long for them to decide which one to approach, for they chose the closest one, with a splintered counter and broken shelves just within. Thorny vines curled around its baseboards, and even into the shack itself. No one was inside. Setting their hands upon the counter, they craned their heads to look behind them, their frown deepening. Only silence was there to greet them. The bare landscape that was this carnival, bore a sickly feeling within Frisk’s guts. Then, they looked forward again, into the shack- and jolted. Bright, ultraviolet eyes peering at them mere inches away.

Frisk instantly jumped back, gasping along with the startled Asriel. “H-how did you- Why would you-!?”

“Welcome, to the Carnivale gift shop.” The ticket master chuckled, accompanied by a light jingling. Frisk caught their breath, pressing their hand over their racing heart, and stepped back up to the counter. The skeleton was easier to see, here. The subtle, Christmas colored lights from the lamp posts illuminated his eerie, sharp features. The cowl pulled over the top of his head had a few patches of mismatched fabric, and draped over each shoulder with eaten, gouged edges. Resting just below his neck, was a plush, thick scarf. The ends flung over each shoulder, left hanging at his mid back. Yet, the light from the lampposts, and his eyes, discolored the dark, striped pattern.

While Frisk was scrutinizing the skeleton’s attire, Asriel was making a face at the empty shelves just behind the figure. “But, there’s nothing even on display. What kind of gift shop is this-? A better question, where is everyone?”

The ticket master chuckled, his tone echoing oddly in the back of his throat. “Yes, it seems that our dolls have…” he snickered, “ _run away._ ”

Frisk pulled their lips back, wincing at his words. The monster’s laughter subsided as Asriel spoke above him, becoming irritated. “Whatever. Can you tell us where everyone is? Or where _anybody_ else is besides you? Actually, the Ring Leader. We’d like to see the Ring Leader.”

“Ohh, questions.” The ticket master cooed. “I enjoy questions… _I have one for you, if you’ve got two for me_. _What, When, Where, and Whyy. It’s all the same, you see_.” He sung sweetly, breaking into another higher pitched giggle. A loud jingling ringing out as his shoulders shook.

The insanity of this monster began to fully make itself known. But Asriel had no time for his games, and growled. “Just answer me-! It’s important we speak with whoever is in charge!”

“ _Who is this ‘everyone’, in which you speak?_

_For I know of only one who you might seek._

_He sits before you!_

_Now, I may ask-_

_Before the night grows darker,_

_Have you caught sight, of my brother?_ ”

Frisk frowned further, watching the odd creature with a feeling of pity as a light chuckle shook through his bony frame. He had already asked them this question. Was there really no one else here? He was all alone? Could this be an explanation for his odd behavior? Asriel must not have been thinking along with Frisk, as he replied, dead pan. “No. We haven’t seen your brother. Is there really _nobody_ else here, besides you?”

The ticket master hummed, an odd bass line trickling outward. Thrumming within Frisk’s ribcage and raising goosebumps along their arms. Finally, the skeleton chuckled, and leaned forward still. Lowering his voice, “the dolls.”

Frisk didn’t like the sound of that. Asriel thought nothing of it, perhaps they were not prizes, but other monsters in this timeline. “Where can we find them?”

“Allll around~!” The ticket master sung, a dark tone entering his voice. He laughed. Frisk _really_ didn’t like the sound of that.

Asriel groaned, rubbing his soft face against his leaves. There was silence, but only for a moment, before the skeleton spoke again. Rather serious. “My brother must be looking for them too- In the garden. Silly child, he knows we cannot enter the attractions! It spooks the humans.”

Frisk blinked, and Asriel shot his gaze upwards. “What...? Did you say, humans?”

The ticket master giggled, nodding. “Who else would come to Carnivale?”

With a snort, the rose then spat. “Where is this... ‘Garden’?”

“Ah- you reached your ten-question limit. Five gold, for ten more.” The monster sniggered. Asriel was confused, at first, then groaned and ducked down. It was only a moment before he resurfaced, and tossed the coin angrily at the skeleton. The ticket master swiped the glittering golden piece from the air, the metal clattering against his phalanges as he rolled it across his digits.

The skeleton bowed his head, hiding his features in shadow while his brilliant eyes twinkled. He snatched the piece of coin into his palm, and slowly extended his index finger. Pointing just off behind them. His words came heavy, slightly wavering, as he intoned. _“Only the most Determined know, where the bloody thicket grows.”_

The two followed his direction, staring off behind them. Where an overgrown path lie hidden between two hobbled shacks. Bathed in a subtle, lilac hue from the nearby lamp post. Frisk turned back around to thank their guide but the shack was then empty, once again. Asriel snorted, “Good riddance… C’mon Frisk, let’s go. Someone else must know what is going on around here, we won’t get anything out of Sans.”

Frisk dared to lean up on the counter, glancing around within the shack. Not even an old candy wrapper lay inside. Only old, dusty boards and empty shelves. Slipping from the counter, their boots scuffed the dirt, and they turned to walk across the empty field. They quickly reached the other side, and pressed through the itchy patch of overgrowth, stumbling upon a new, hidden pathway that wove behind the shacks, and alongside closely knit tents. Winding along, they somehow ended back upon the thorny brush, bathed in lavender. Pushing through the vines, they stumbled back into the central area, from where they had come.

“Oh- you’ve got to be kidding me!” Asriel groaned. “He tricked us again?!”

Frisk huffed, and in an instant, they turned back into the itchy brush. Despite Asriel’s objections. “H-hey- Frisk! There’s no point-! He’s just playing a game with us!”

The Determined child ignored their brother, and jogged along through the winding path, once again. Ending back at the lilac light, between two hobbled shacks. Stunned, they didn’t give themselves the chance to catch their breath. Against Asriel’s further grumbling, Frisk spun about, and started running along the pathway. Left, right, dead on center. They spun this way and that, only to land back upon the lilac hewn brush.  A growl then ripped through Frisk, a furrow entering their brow as they tore away from the brush and headed back along the path, once more. Kicking dirt from their furious heels.

Asriel groaned, “Frisk-! Frisk, just stop! This isn’t the right way-!”

Just before the rightward turn, Frisk stumbled to a halt. Panting, a hard sweat causing their new, light cotton undershirt to stick to their back, the child began to backpedal. Glaring at the turn. Then, suddenly, they spun about, and gasped. There, somehow having loomed just behind them, was the embroidered entrance of a small, burgundy tent. Dull rose bushes grew up along its entrance, slicing the fabric of the tent with their ragged thorns.

Frisk began to catch their breath, a smile parting their lips while Asriel slowly clapped his leaves together. A soft, pathetic sound. “Not sure if you meant to do that, but you figured it out… somehow.”

The child laughed lightly, quickly advancing to the tent. The rose bushes that clambered around the tent’s entrance gave off a subtle, pleasant scene. Drawing them both in, towards the entrance.

“ _Bloody thicket grows…_ Roses. Of course.” Asriel sighed. “Well, this is the first living thing I’ve seen here so far. We must be on the right track… Even though the bone bag has been of little help.”

Frisk paused before the entrance, shooting a teasing glare at the rose posed over their shoulder. Asriel scoffed, folding his leaves across his thorny stem. “What-? It’s true.”

Frisk just rolled their eyes, and with a shake of their head, they pressed forward. Parting the heavy fabric with a pass of their arm, and carefully stepped inside. The flap behind them hardly made a noise, fading into a solid, blank wall.


	3. The Rose Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all is as it seems, as the parlor begins to test our heros.

The sweet scent of blossoming rose filled the elegant foyer they found themselves standing in. Awestruck, Frisk slowly crept inside, their dusty boots scuffling the plush, expensive rug draped across the dark, hardwood floor. The walls were trimmed halfway with black, carved wood. While the uppermost areas of the surface were covered in a vintage, floral wallpaper. A grand, rot iron chandelier hung right above them, casting subtle candle light throughout the front room. Hand carved dressers sat on either side, holding the weight of large planter boxes filled with roses below large oil paintings. One was of an elegantly dressed violet bunny, her ears limp across her shoulders. The other, of the familiar spider silk gymnast. Gazing fondly out of the dark painting, her eyelashes sultry and long. Clad in a lacy, monochrome dress, a kettle in each of her four hands. Yet, despite the paintings, the blood colored floral arrangements were the only sense of true color here.

“What...What is this? Didn’t we enter a tent-? This feels like… like a house.” Asriel murmured, craning his head around every which way whilst Frisk stepped a bit farther forward.

They paused. Standing in the middle of the entrance. There were closed double doors on either side of the foyer, their glossy surface and shimmery silver handles, dusted with age. Then, Frisk turned their gaze forward once more, eyeing a dark, fortune telling machine tucked in the corner containing a hunched silhouetted figure behind cracked glass. The machine was nestled just beside a quaint, open staircase. Composed of just a few steps downward. Leading into a tea parlor with broad, exquisite windows. Frisk found themselves pulled forward, towards the parlor.

Within the modest dining area, hung two, smaller chandeliers. Candles flickering from their melted stands, dully illuminating the ebony woodwork of two round tables, situated on either side. Two wooden chairs, per fixture. Across the modest parlor sat a large booth, situated just beneath the stunning, murky windows. A gentle, comforting light glistening inward through the foggy glass. The booth was wrapped in burgundy fabric, as to not take away from the righteous reds of the rose planters hugging the walls. Their cement planter boxes a more contemporary look, for the gothic vintage aesthetic permeating the room.

Frisk was standing within the threshold before they knew it, a hand steadying themselves against the sharp, hand carved trim. Blinking out across this room, they studied the small ornamental vases atop each table. Containing a single rose, their petals flaking from the stem, left to kiss the table top, untouched. Upon one of these tables, was an unfinished cup of tea, paired with a steaming teapot. A pamphlet left tucked beneath the porcelain plate.

Without thinking, Frisk descended the small staircase, and waltzed into the parlor. The scent of roses was strong, their vines having clambered up along either side of the room, nearly curling across the ceiling. Asriel crinkled his features, glaring suspiciously across the room while Frisk glanced into the teacup. A peculiar smell wafted up from the amber liquid. A foul stench that lingered unfavorably in the back of Frisk’s throat. Frowning, they carefully moved the abandoned teacup to the side, unearthing the thick, recycled paper pamphlet. The edges were decorated in dark lace, hand painted rose petals accentuated the boarders while maroon calligraphy danced across the cover.

**_“The Rose Garden”_ **

**_*Please, purchase ticket before dinning.*_ **

_  Menu_

_Tea of the Day: Herbal Melody, side of Honey._

_Petite Sandwiches: Fresh Bruschetta, Vinegar drizzle._

_Golden Butter Croissants, side of Rose Jam._

_Garden Parlor Quiche, well loved. Unforgotten._

_Mystery Specialty Cake, side of fresh berries._

 

Frisk then opened the cover, finding a book pressed rose bud tied to the thick paper with a red ribbon. Below it, was elegant calligraphy scrawled.

_“Deserved rest, for the Determined soul.”_

Closing the cover, Frisk handed the pamphlet to Asriel, who sighed as he tucked the paper away within the backpack. “Well, looks like we need a ticket for this place...” He let out a groan, “we better go back.”

Frisk hummed as they turned about, admiring the roses blooming up along either wall. A pep entered their step, rejuvenated by the life of the flowers all around them. A well welcomed change from the dreary landscape of the Carnival.

They climbed the idle stairs, and stared across the foyer to a blank, seamless wall. Stunned, they tentatively approached, eyeing the surface with intense scrutiny. Frisk laid their palms flat against the wall, groping out and along its length. Trying to feel for a groove. But found none. There was no notion of a door ever having been here in the first place. Their motions then became more frantic, their nails scrabbling across the wallpaper as Asriel stammered, “W-where’s the door?! We came in this way! Didn’t we?!”

Frisk released an anxious whimper, ending their futile search by shoving themselves back from the wall, and stared- gob struck. The rose monster perched upon their shoulder glanced around the foyer once more, the fortune telling machine fully grabbing his attention. A worn, golden plaque was screwed onto the surface, the plexiglass scuffed and cracked. With a shadow tucked within, unmoving. Engraved upon its surface, just beneath the window, was simple, elegant “5g”. A coin slot situated on the right-hand side. A ticket dispenser slot, on the other.

“Frisk-” Asriel spoke, prodding the child’s shoulder. Frisk blinked, turning their attention back around to the dark device. “-I guess we are supposed to use... that thing.”

The child sighed, exhaling heavily through their nostrils. Without any other option, they approached the embellished machine. Standing before it, they tried to peer into the murky blackness within. But could make no clear sense of the animatronic lurking inside. Asriel was but a moment as Frisk peered through the cracked pane, tapping the child’s shoulder when he had a coin. Frisk promptly took it, and inserted the bit into the machine, keeping their fingertip pressed against the slot as the metal piece clanked within the bowels of the device.

Then, the light within the machine flickered. A broken bulb hovering clear above the hooded figure within, who raised his head with a large, sharp grin. His ultraviolet eyes burst into life, faint embers of light flittered from his sockets, left to twinkle in the air about him as he chuckled. The sound reverberating the small booth, along with the softest jingle of a bell.

“Ugh-!” Asriel snorted, “Not you again-! Why are _you_ in there?!”

In this new light, the skeleton’s outfit was much easier to see. The rigid cowl was still drawn up over his head, but the porcelain glaze of his bony face crackled against his sockets. As if an old coat of paint was peeling away. Thick twine was sewn into the sides of the hood, holding the frayed fabric together as it stuck out behind him into a point. Similar to a witch’s hat, with a dangling silver bell strapped to the end. The thick, black and violet scarf wrapped about his neck beneath his cowl obscured his neck, and hid his chin just behind it.

“I am the Ticket Master,” he laughed dryly, nearly ending in a purr. “We monsters are not allowed within the attractions. With the exception of… _special_ placements. It is my job to be here, otherwise-” he chuckled, “-there’d be no tickets.”

Frisk swallowed dryly, the skeleton’s predatory gaze staring straight through them. Tentatively, they raised their hand, signaling for a single ticket. The monster inside inclined his head, a whirring was spurred from the machine, then, a single golden ticket slid from the opposing slot. The child tore it free, and the machine went dark again. The suddenness of it all startled Frisk, and they backpedaled. Within, was sheer shadow.

“I really don’t like that guy…” Asriel murmured, his brow furrowed as annoyance crept into his tone. “At least he didn’t charge us double again.”

Frisk frowned, glancing behind them and signed carefully. _‘He seems… lonely.’_

“Lonely? Pft… the guy is clearly nuts.” Frisk shot him a dubious look. Asriel snorted, diverting his gaze to the far door. “Well, let’s take a look around… If he really is the only monster here… Well, I don’t think we’ll be getting served anytime soon.”

Shrugging, Frisk handed the ticket to Asriel, who then tucked it away within the backpack while they stepped to the door on the western side. Turning the knob was easy enough, yet the door itself was heavy. Pushing all their weight into it, Frisk grunted before the door finally swung inwards, and they tucked themselves inside. The door swung firmly shut behind them. Inside was a short hallway, ending in a similar window to the one in the tea parlor. A quaint vase holding a bunch of roses sat within the gleaming light. Frisk tried opening the door to the left, but the knob was jammed. Broken. They then turned to the right, and the door opened easily into a sterile, white kitchen.

It smelt as if something was burning. A lone, rolling pot of boiling water upon the stovetop filled the air with an obnoxious gurgling sound. Yet, everything else was bare, and still. Frisk began to explore, taking their time to investigate everything. Except for the plain, white fridge, which wafted a horrible smell. The island counter itself was free of any stain or smudge, a solid, clean white. The drawers, empty. Not even a knife was to be found, which further confused Asriel. “A kitchen, and no knives? No pots, pans- or eatable food? Well, _somebody_ must have been here... Making, _something_.” He pointed to the stove top, and Frisk followed. Standing before the oven, they scowled at the covered pot. The water boiled so heavily that it hissed and spilled out from beneath the lid, into the burner. It explained the teapot in the parlor, at least.

Frisk reached out to turn the flame off, their fingers grasping for the knobs, yet only hit smooth metal. Blinking, they peered all around the stovetop, not a button, nor switch to be seen. But, as they investigated, they noticed the oven light was on. Crouching down, the glass was too dirty to fully seen within it. Frisk gripped the handle, and pulled the door open. Instantly, a cloud of smoke billowed outward from the belly of the oven, the scent of burnt bread flooding straight into their face in a heated wave. Asriel coughed, fanning away the smoke as Frisk quickly shut the door, covering their mouth and nose with their free hand; coughing away themselves.

“UGHK! That’s _disgusting-!_ ” Asriel choked. “We have to pull it out, it may start a fire.”

Nodding, Frisk reeled back to the cabinets, clearing their sinuses of ash with the occasional sneeze and hacking cough. Each, and every door, contained nothing behind them. No plate, no saucer, no spoon- not even a crumb. Panicked, they halted their rummaging, turning back towards the oven as smoke leaked outward along the door. Black, curdling clouds rose to the ceiling, blotting out the luminescent lights above. There was nothing they could use to pull the food out from the oven, they’d burn their hands.

“Frisk-!” Asriel gasped, coughing, “let’s just get out of here!”

The child lunged for the door, grasping the handle. But no matter how they jangled, turned, and yanked upon the brass. It wouldn’t budge. Frisk still attempted to pull the door open, quickly shaking the handle with all of their might as a deep cloud formed up against the ceiling. Asriel began to cough again, ducking his head down into the backpack. The smoke stung Frisk’s eyes, fresh tears rolled down their cheeks as they whirled back around, and gaped at the oven. The water boiling in the pot caused the lid to rattle. There was no way out.

Then, Frisk slipped off their backpack, carefully setting it down against the corner, the farthest place away from the smoke. Asriel peered up and out of the bag, his eyes wide. “Frisk-?”

The child quickly signed, _‘The Pamphlet. I’ll use the pamphlet. Quick.’_

Asriel shook his head, exasperated. “Paper?! It’ll catch on fire too!”

Frisk frowned gravely down to Asriel, and they stared at one another. The light in the room grew darker by the second. The rose growled, frustrated, as he darted within the backpack, and then returned, holding the thick pamphlet out to Frisk—as well as the parlor ticket. A weak extra defense, but it was more protection none-the-less. The child snatched the papers, and spun on their heels. Their boots scuffing the white tile below as they darted for the oven. Stumbling to a halt, Frisk covered their mouth and nose with their sleeve, using the ticket-pamphlet as a guard for their palm to push the boiling pot of water off of the lit burner. Hot water sloshed outward, splashing against Frisk’s hand. They yelped, grimacing, and fumbled with the splotched papers.

“Frisk-!” Asriel shouted from across the room, leaning out from the backpack as far as he could. His leaves wringing the handle of the bag.

Ignoring him, Frisk was forced to use both hands. Leaving their mouth exposed, they held their breath, and winced through the bog of smoke spilling out around them. Flinging the oven door open, out belched a grisly amount of ash. Completely concealing Frisk as they bent down, and reached within the sweltering heat. Gripping the edge of a cake pan, flames flickered and licked the edges, catching the papers aflame. As fast as they could muster, Frisk yanked the pan out of the oven, kneed it shut, and shoved the pan onto the deadened stove top. The burner mysteriously having gone out.

Instantly, Frisk dropped the paper as it was swallowed whole by flame, and fell to dust across the stovetop. The child fell to the floor, hacking and coughing, trying to dip down beneath the cloud of smoke hovering in the air. Blinded by tears, stinging with ash, and a sore hand, they were a useless heap before the oven. Then, suddenly, a shudder resounded through the ceiling. Fans whirred to life. Slowly, the smog cleared, and Frisk glanced upwards, seeing Asriel having stretched himself up along the wall, one of his leaves pressed against a row of light switches.

Frisk then looked upwards, the string of vents imbedded in the ceiling making quick work of the smoke. Sighing, thankful for the reprieve—and feeling rather idiotic by not noticing the switches first—they gathered themselves and stood. Holding their reddened hand against their chest. A light cough still worked through their throat. Curiously, Frisk glanced over their shoulder at the cake pan. Inside, the remnants of a cake lay burnt to pieces. Yet, an odd key lay embedded right in the middle of the rubble. It’s brass body shimmering through the smoldering ruin.

“What is that?” Called Asriel, lowering himself back into the backpack, staring across the room.

Looking back, Frisk made a face, signing awkwardly. _‘A key?’_

Thinking for a moment, Asriel hummed, then drew out Frisk’s lucky stick from the pack. “Use this to get it out, don’t burn yourself.”

Frisk retrieved the stick, frowning at the soreness of their right hand. Still, they shrugged the sensation, and pulled the backpack back on. They took a moment to adjust the pack properly, and headed to the stovetop. Using the fat end of the stick, Frisk chopped away the burnt sponge under Asriel’s curious gaze. Hacking it’s crusty, shriveled form into pieces. Eventually, the key was freed. Frisk plucked the tiny key from the remains. Still lightly coated in burnt debris, fairly warm to the touch.

“What a waste…” Asriel murmured.

Handing the token, and stick, to Asriel, Frisk promptly exited the room.

They were happy to leave the frothing pot of water behind, stained by stale ash.


	4. Seeing past the petals, to the thorns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heros soon discover they are not as alone as they once thought.

Closing the kitchen door solidly behind them, Frisk pressed back into the foyer, and breathed the subtle, soft air of roses. They sighed, the heavy double doors coming to a close behind them. The scent of smoke still clinging to their dark jacket, and tangled deep within their hair. Asriel shivered, his petals quivering as he slumped over Frisk’s shoulder. The child leaned back into the wooden door at their back. Taking a moment to gather themselves.

“Okay.” Asriel breathed, “maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to take a break in the parlor. With, or without, cake and tea.”

Frisk groaned, nodding their head as they pushed up from the door and trudged across the foyer, glancing within the parlor. The gentle, white light that spilled glistening rays against the wall of roses bid them welcome. A pleasant contrast to the sinister ways seeming to have poisoned this timeline. Frisk almost began to step inside, feeling drawn to take a break, and sit within the comforting garden—when their eyes caught sight of an odd doll, slouched in the chair at one of the tables.

The doll was a soft, plush replica of a bunny. It’s long ears hanging off the sides of the seat, with a few mis-matched patches gleaming in the low light. The eyes, hollow. Like two bits of coal, staring outwardly into the foyer. Directly at the frozen youth atop the stairs. Its body was limp, head slightly crooked to one side, too heavy for its tiny body; clad in a red frilly dress. A red riding hood was drawn up to the crown of its head, draped across its narrow shoulders. A fresh cup of tea sat steaming on the table beside it, exactly where they had found the pamphlet.

“Well… on a third thought…” Asriel frowned. “I don’t like the sight of that…”

Frisk released an anxious whine, taking a step from the staircase, keeping their eyes on the odd doll that stared after them. The rose growled. “On fourth thought—It’s probably just that _‘ticket master’_ screwing with us! Let’s find a way out of here and go home!”

The child hummed to themselves, then shook their head.

“ _No-?!_ Frisk, we can’t stay here. This monster obviously isn’t taking us seriously, we can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped!”

A pulse of energy filled Frisk’s heart, and they straightened their shoulders. Tearing their gaze away from the doll, they crossed the foyer to the other pair of double doors, and pushed inside. While Asriel grumbled to himself, folding his leaves across his prickly stem. Unaware of a beady, black eye, peering outward from within the parlor, to the door.

On this side of the Rose Garden, the hallway took a right turn, passed modest, single doors on both sides. Wanting to be thorough, Frisk checked the left-hand door—and found it jammed as well. Furrowing their brow, they carefully turned and tried the right-hand door. Bracing themselves for another, stark white kitchen, they were pleasantly surprised to walk into an elegant bathroom. A small sitting area awaited them just within the door, and a handful of stalls lined the far wall, while a long mirror hung upon in the wall in a gothic frame above a simple row of sinks.

Asriel chuckled, “A bathroom is only as fancy as it’s waiting area.”

Frisk giggled, deciding to not remind their brother about nursing mothers. Stepping further inside, they checked all the stalls, finding each porcelain toilet clean enough to eat off of. A true sentiment, but not one they themselves would partake in. They took a moment to stand before the mirror, and blinked at their own reflection. The smoke dirtied their features, but it was their clothing and general appearance which caused Frisk to stare. If they hadn’t known any better, they would have guessed their attire reflected some military uniform. The high collar, the shimmery silver buttons, the taste of an experienced tailor. Paired with their serious, straight hair and bangs. The eyes that gazed into the child before them, were unfamiliar.

Asriel lifted himself up over Frisk’s shoulder, also examining himself in the mirror. His petals gave a shiver, and he patted them tentatively with his leaves. Spurring soft puffs of soot into the air. “Well, we do look the part… don’t we?”

Frisk blinked, an odd pull weighing heavily upon their lips.

Asriel peered down at his sibling, and friend. Forcing a light smile upon his face, he spoke in a more understanding tone. One he had practiced after being saved, and returned to a childhood he thought had been long lost. “If you ask me, it’s a good look.”

With a sigh, Frisk shook their head, their bangs hanging over their eyes. Asriel frowned, opening his mouth to speak, when the child reached out and turned on the water. Carefully, they cupped the water within their hands, and rubbed their features clear of soot. Inky dribbles cascading down the drain. After a few moments of washing, Frisk shut off the water, snatched a hand towel from beside the basin, and patted their skin dry. They lifted their head, looking into the mirror with a smile. Asriel blinked, and smiled himself.

“Better.” He nodded, a light laugh working through his stem.

Frisk folded the towel back up, and set it beside the basin politely. They then regarded the mirror, looking at their brother’s reflection, and signed. _‘This place is more dangerous than I thought.’_

Asriel shrugged. “Yeah, but I bet you thought that while in the Underground too.”

They nodded, not afraid to admit it. _‘But this place is… different. I just have a feeling something went very, very wrong. We have to find out what that is-’_

“It’s probably just that skeleton doing everything.” Asriel snorted. “He’s constantly laughing, it’s all just a sick kind of joke to him. We should just leave, he’s of literally no help to us.”

Frisk frowned into the mirror, locking gazes with their brother, whose thorns bristled. _‘But what if it isn’t him? What if he’s been stuck here, in this dangerous place, all by himself?’_

“That’s only like... an eight percent possibility.” Asriel scoffed, turning his gaze away from the mirror. “And even then- So what? He’s a lost cause.”

Despite his attempts to ignore Frisk, he still caught their hand motions in his peripheral vision, and frowned. _‘That’s what they said about you, before Gaster helped restore your soul. And they said the same thing about him, until he learned how to cure the fallen.’_

A silence fell over the room. Asriel remained downcast, check mated by his sibling.

_‘We need to try. We shouldn’t judge him so quickly, we need to give him the chance to make up for first impressions. We should get to know him. We’re in his world now, and for whatever reason everyone else is gone. He keeps asking about Papyrus, after all…’_

Eventually, Asriel conceded with a heavy sigh. Lifting his head back up, he nodded into the mirror, beneath Frisk’s unrelenting gaze. “Okay, you got me there… Let’s keep looking for clues, but we need to be more careful. It seems like this timeline has different rules than ours. It’s going to challenge us.”

Frisk nodded, their smile growing all the wider. The two then looked at each other, and felt Determination blossom within their hearts. Asriel shook his petals, quickly turning away, back towards the door. “Well, let’s get a move on. We won’t find out anything by just sitting in the bathroom.”

With their minds in the same place, their purpose was strengthened, and they left the bathroom without any further hiccup. Standing back within the hall, Frisk blinked at the door across the way—which had been jammed before—but now sat slightly ajar. They stepped towards it, trying to peek in through the subtle crack, but was only met with darkness.

“I don’t like this, Frisk… Let’s just see what’s down the hall.” Asriel quipped, side eyeing the peculiar door with unease.

Frisk, however, couldn’t contain themselves, and carefully pulled the door open. The hinges squeaked rather loudly, burdened with the weight of the door. Yet, as the light from the hallway spilled within the opening threshold, they were met with a simple closet. A few old coats sat hung upon the hangers, left forgotten. Along with a few cleaning supplies nestled on the floor. The light bulb hanging by a wire from the ceiling had burst long ago. Blinking, Frisk pawed through the coats, checking each pocket, and studying each tag. Hoping for a name, or for another key, possibly.

Asriel wasn’t fond of this game, and groaned. “C’mon Frisk. I don’t like tHIS-!”

 His words were cut as they were both shoved, hard, from behind. Frisk was sent flying inward, into the closet, thrown against the solid wall behind the small curtain of coats. Just as the door slammed behind them, leaving them shrouded in darkness. An eerie, childish giggle resonated out within the hall, along with the tiny scampering of feet.

Heart racing, Frisk fought through the dusty jackets and fondled for the door handle. Once they found the metal knob, they pushed and pressed in every which way. The bolt merely jiggled within. Frozen, absolutely jammed. Still, Frisk growled through their teeth, trying to not lose their sense of fight while being shrouded in the pitch blackness of the closet. They continued to try the handle, the giggling echoing some distance away.

“YOU BASTARD COME UNLOCK THIS DOOR-!” Asriel fumed, having half a mind to try to push at the door himself.

Frisk whined, suddenly throwing their shoulder against the door whilst pulling on the handle. The entire wooden panel shuddered beneath their assault. “WHEN WE GET OUT OF HERE, YOU’RE GOING TO BE SO SORRY-!”

The door then gave, and out they spilled. Frisk gasped, trying to recover from throwing themselves literally out of the closet, but still tumbled to the floor. Falling in a heap upon the hallway rug. Here they sat, dizzied, and groaning. Asriel, on the other hand, was perched up from the disheveled backpack, his petals rustling with rage as he whipped his head around this way, and that. Frisk was slow to gather themselves, sitting up on the floor while rubbing their shoulder, when the closet door swung closed—all on its own.

Both of them stared up at the closet, frowning; but it was Asriel who clung to his anger. “Ohh- Oh man, next time I see that rotten skeleton-!”

Frisk huffed, picking themselves up off of the floor. They straightened their clothing, patting their fabrics with their palms before standing straight up once again. Turning to look down the hallway, towards the turn in the bend, they caught a flash of red darting down the hallway. Frisk then began to sign, swallowing dryly. _‘I don’t think that was who you think it was…’_

This time, Asriel had nothing to say. At least, nothing Frisk could understand, as he grumbled beneath his breath. Frisk felt no other choice but to go after whatever had pushed them into the closet, this place was dark—wicked. Humor and play could be shown through mean tricks. In any case, they needed answers: What happened to this place? Where were they? And most importantly, how to get out of the Rose Garden. Armed with only a dirtied stick, and a brass key, Frisk marched down the hall and peered around the bend. There were two doors on the left-hand side of the hall, bathed in the gentle, white glow from the windows across from them, bordered in velvet curtains. The farthest door snapped shut, the sound echoed throughout the hall. They both frowned.

Warily, Frisk stepped into the hallway, and kept their eye on the farthest door as they tried the knob on the first. It clicked oddly in their hand, it was locked. Asriel sighed in relief, looking down into the bag for the key. “I have a feeling I know what this key is for-” Frisk then left the knob, and began to step down the hall, which drew a hard line across Asriel’s brow. “Frisk. No, what are you doing-?” They ignored him, and approached the mysterious door, biting their bottom lip as they reached for the handle while Asriel chattered harshly, pulling at their shoulder. “No-! Frisk- No, _no!_ ”

His voice lowered into a rough whisper, _“we don’t need to go in there-! Why are you like this-?”_

Asriel continued to shake Frisk’s unresponsive shoulder as the door before them swung open. Before them was a humble office, the far wall decorated with shelves, laden with books. Despite its gentle appearance, they were both tense as Frisk tentatively went inside, leaving the door wide open behind them. To the right was a large, decorative window illuminating the room with the same, gentle, white light. Fields of wildflowers folded outward as far as the eye could see, basking in brilliant sunshine. Right before this brilliant window, rested a large, dark desk. A few papers scattered on the dusty surface. Frisk hardly noticed the tabletop, they were spellbound by the bright scenery just beyond the gallant, iron clad window. As they approached to stand just before the desk, an eerie feeling crawled up along their spine. Something was wrong about the sight. Wrong with the flowers, the sky, the entire scenery—it was…blotchy.

They came to a halt right before the desk made of dark cherry wood, tea stains left in rings upon the surface. Asriel spoke warily, the both of them craning their heads back to gaze at the window which cast their long shadows far behind them. “Frisk… I don’t think this is real. I mean—look at it—there, in the top corner… The sky is _bleeding_ into the hill.”

Frisk frowned, and nodded their head. The longer they stared, they then realized that what they were seeing wasn’t real. It was a painting. And just like the Carnival itself, the paint was running, and peeling, in many places. A trick of the eye. That meant that each of the windows, including the parlor, must be showcases—shadow boxes; paintings that were illuminated with fluorescent light just behind them. Frisk’s heart sunk, the possibility of life in this place was fake. Fabricated. These monsters had gone to far lengths, all in the attempt to make the illusion of life, and of peace, of the surface world. For whatever reason, the Carnival sat atop nothing but weeds, and broken debris. And for whatever reason, these monsters did not leave. The thought weighed heavily on the both of them.

Frisk was pulled from thought by the saddened sigh of Asriel, as he finally had looked upon the desk. “Oh man…”

His tone spurred Frisk to look down, and they then noticed a large slump of dust piled onto the tabletop, having scattered across the wood and down the plush leather chair sitting stoic just across from them. Frisk’s shoulders slumped, blinking through the watery haze having taken over them. The mound of dust glittered peacefully in the fluorescent light shining down upon them. Asriel broke the silence, his voice slightly shaken. “What happened here, Frisk? Who would want to _die here?_ ”

Frisk reached out towards the table top, towards the few bits of paper left coated on the desk in lithe, grey debris. As respectfully as they could, they lifted the paper, allowing a cascade of residue to hush from the pages back to the pile. Tenderly, they then lightly patted the pages, clearing the surface further before turning them around to look at what had been written. Asriel craned forward, hovering beside Frisk’s cheek as they both read silently.

 

13th of March,

           _The Ring Leader has thought of a new show. One that will surely please the humans, and their joy will help give our kind Hope. Especially the little ones. Papyrus has been spending more, and more time here. I’m sure the color of the silk flowers, and perfumes, are relaxing to such a young child. It seems as if him and Sans are arguing again. He is too young to understand. I’ve given him the spare key to my room, so he has a place to sleep while the Carnival is going on during the twilight hours. Much too late for such a little boy._

_I’ve told him before that he doesn’t need to help set up, or maintenance, anything during the day. But… I know it’s to spend time with The Ring Leader… poor dear just misses his family._

 

21st of March,

              _The new show is scheduled for tonight._

_I’ve never seen The Ring Leader so… energized. Something doesn’t feel right._

 

Asriel hummed, looking to Frisk who gently set the paper back down on the desk. “I guess that means Papyrus is really young in this timeline. I wonder how old that makes Sans…”

Frisk shrugged, lifting their hands to sign their thoughts as they turned around. But suddenly, they froze. Far across the room, standing in their stretched shadow, was a doll. The same doll that had been sitting in the parlor. Long, fleece ears hung down from the bobble headed rabbit; draped over its red, frilly dress. Goosebumps ran down along Frisk’s spine, and Asriel’s stem shuddered. The small rabbit-like doll then giggled, familiar and soft. It had no mouth.

In a sing song tone, it lifted its head—beady black eyes staring outward at the both of them from beneath a red riding hood cowl. “You haven’t come to play, have you?”

Frisk’s fingers trembled, and they shook their head.


	5. Poppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Asriel have finally met another monster within the carnival, but it has ideas of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my birthday gift to you guys, enjoy a longer update! <3

The doll slowly stepped forward, its stubby legs causing the long red dress to bunch up and drag behind it. The sleeves were too long for the arms, and hung just as loosely at the sides. It approached mid-way before Frisk took a step back, and hit back against the desk. The doll halted and giggled again.

 

“You’re lying to me,” it said sweetly, a sheen glittering in its coal stubbed eyes.

 

Frisk shook their head again, quickly. Asriel finally found his voice, leaning forward over Frisk’s shoulder to spit, “The only reason we are here is because Frisk wants to see what happened to this place, to fix it. We need to find the Ring Leader-”

 

“You won’t find him,” the doll interrupted, lifting a short arm to press against its ill-defined chin. Mimicking the motion of thought. “Not without both Ticket Master’s approval.”

 

“Both-?” Asriel asked, scrunching his features. “Wait—What? We need the skeleton’s permission?”

 

“Yes,” the doll hummed, lowering its hand while the head tilted against its narrow shoulder. “The Skeletons hold the power over Carnivale. Without our Ring Leader, we would all have been dust once we were trapped here.”

 

Frisk then began to sign, taking a step forward.  _ ‘We thought the Ring Leader was a goat monster-?’ _

 

They were taken aback as the doll spat laughter, its tiny frame shuddering. Frisk’s hands froze mid-air, and Asriel’s face was stiff with shock. The doll’s high pitched giggling faded, and it took a few steps closer—but this time, Frisk held their ground as the doll chirped, “The King? He died many, many years ago. He could not bear the weight of his guilt. We were told the humans wanted to hold a treaty in this very place, but when we got here, it was a trap. They sealed us in, and built a rot iron wall—the very image caused many to fall. Including the King’s own son. Then, himself. All Hope was lost to us-” the doll growled, souring, “-because of  _ him _ .”

 

“That can’t be true-!” Asriel hissed, emotion clouding his eyes. “My F-, The King, was a great leader-!”

 

“Well, he did  _ lead  _ us into this place,” the doll snarked, another giggle welling within its tiny body. “If it wasn’t for our Ring Leader, his genius, then we all would have slowly died in this place. He gave us purpose. He gave us Hope.”

 

The rose was quaking on Frisk’s shoulder, lost to his own thoughts, it allowed Frisk to sign.  _ ‘And your purpose was to entertain Humans? The people that enslaved you?’ _

 

“You are quite naïve.” The doll scoffed, motioning its arms outward, the long sleeves like billowing flags. “Everything here has a purpose to  _ learn  _ about Humans. They think we  _ serve  _ them, but they are just the instruments—the clues—in order for us to figure a way out. Just like how I’ve been studying you, with my tricks.”

 

Asriel gasped, “You locked us in the kitchen…”

 

A soft giggle wove throughout the room. A light clicked within Asriel, and he lifted himself back into a more comfortable position. “You started that fire on purpose. Just to see how we reacted…”

 

The doll seemed to be grinning, staring intently on the both of them as Asriel continued to connect the dots out loud. “You were a prize doll… You spied on the Human’s that ‘won’ you. The entire Carnival is tricking us because that’s what it was made to do!”

 

_ “Ding ding ding-!” _ The doll chortled, lowering its arms. The long ears resting down its chest twitched. “When you ‘solve’ a riddle of ours, it weeds out the stupid Humans, and allows us to focus on the smart ones. Eventually, we would be able to solve the magic trapping us here.” The doll then lowered its voice, filling with malice as a shadow crossed over its beady features. “We were so close… The Ring Leader became too confident, he acted too soon. He ruined it for  _ everyone _ .”

 

_ ‘What did he do…?’ _ Frisk signed cautiously.

 

“During a Grande performance…” The doll began, pausing for the right words, folding its arms before continuing. “The Ring Leader would cast a brilliant counter spell, using the human souls within the main tent as the energy force to break the barrier surrounding this place. Except, it wasn’t strong enough.” The rabbit lowered its head, becoming rather bleak. “Instead of targeting the Humans, it attacked  _ us _ . Any monster that was too weak, was destroyed. The Humans scattered, and whenever they ran into a surviving monster, they destroyed them too. Out of panic, or revenge… We aren’t sure.”

 

A silence fell across the room, the radiant light flooding Frisk’s back illuminated bits of wandering dust traipsing about through the air. Asriel sighed softly, “That explains why this place is so empty.”

 

The doll nodded, snickering. “Yes… It has been so long since we’ve seen a Human. At first, I didn’t believe my own eyes. It’s been nearly a hundred years…” The doll paused, its head drifting to the other side, “And with only one Ticket Master left, this place is rather boring.”

Frisk glanced towards Asriel, who frowned in return. They then looked back towards the doll, who was suddenly closer than before. “So… Papyrus is-?”

 

“Gone. With the others.” The doll sighed audibly, shrugging its shoulders. The motion seemed… forced. “Which is a shame-” they sighed, “-You need both Ticket Master keys to get into the carousel.”

 

“Why would we need to get into the carousel…?” Asriel raised a brow. The doll shot them both a devious look, the shadows playing upon its stark fabric face.

 

“To get beneath the carnival. I’m sure you noticed the huge empty lot in the center-? That’s where the main tent was. We think the spell acted as a huge gravitational force, and pulled the tent, and our Ring Leader, beneath the Carnival in the maintenance tunnels. Where the generators all are for the rides, lights, et cetera. And the only way into the maintenance tunnels is through the carousel.”

 

Frisk began to feel a stirring within them, the history of this place was finally beginning to make sense. Just like in their own timeline, when the souls of all of monster kind were pulled to Asriel—they could be released again. There was still Hope for this place, and a shot at peace for the remaining monsters. Relief fell over Frisk possibly too soon, for Asriel then began to tense up, the doll was creeping closer to them again. Their voice odd, and much too friendly.

 

The doll giggled, the sound echoing across the room. “If you have a ticket… well… you can enter—and then exit the carnival. A round trip ticket, it’s good for looking around… To figure out a puzzle. Then you can just leave, anytime you want.”

 

Frisk blinked, their brows furrowing as Asriel snorted. “Then why don’t you just… buy a ticket and leave?”

 

Poppet scoffed. “That  _ stupid _ , selfish Ticket Master refuses to sell to a monster.  _ ‘It’s against the rules’ _ -” they imitated, a growl wavering through them. Their tone then shifted, becoming dark as its chin lowered. “A load of shit, if you ask me.”

 

The doll snapped its head back up, staring intently at Frisk whose eyes widened. “ _ Buut-” _ they giggled, “-if you want to help so much, why not give me  _ your  _ ticket. You’d help at least  _ one  _ monster stuck in this place. As you’ll help none otherwise, not without both keys. And nobody knows where the sunrise key is, the sunset one that the Ticket Master holds is useless without it.”

The dress adorned upon the doll began to quiver, rolling in an invisible force as they advanced forward again. Frisk stifled a gasp, shifting backwards. A red sheen flickered like a flame across the doll’s button eyes—seemingly transfixed upon Frisk.

 

Asriel bristled, “Hold on, our ticket probably doesn’t even work on a monster, so just-  _ back off! _ ”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” The doll called his bluff, and Asriel winced. The doll then hissed,  _ “Why are you being so selfish? Don’t you want to help us?” _

 

Frisk quickly acted, signing.  _ ‘Slow down, we don’t even know your name yet.’ _

 

The doll paused, then replied with an odd, toothy grin spreading across it’s plush face. Displaying ravenous canines as it enunciated slowly. “Poppet. That’ll be one Entry ticket.”

 

_ “NO!” _ Asriel shouted, baring his own teeth towards the maniacal rabbit. “No more games! No more giving you weirdos money, or tickets-! We won’t give you  _ anything. _ So just-  _ get out of our way! _ ”

 

**_“Not without that ticket.”_ ** Poppet snarled, the weight of her words tremoring throughout the room. Her dress billowed with the energies gathering throughout her form, lifting her from the ground while the shelves on either side of the room shuddered and groaned. With a bright flash of light, multiple thorns emerged wriggling and snapping from Poppet’s back. Slowly, the bright light beaming into Frisk’s back dulled into a deep crimson. The room was now painted in blood.

Eight tendrils in all, lined with dagger-esc thorns, whipped the air, and with a snicker—one lashed forward. Frisk gasped, quickly shielding themselves with their forearms as a loud  _ CRACK _ burst just above them. Lifting their gaze, Frisk found themselves surrounded with tiny, white pellets, all spinning on an axis. The vine retracted, and Poppet hissed.

 

“Frisk-  _ MOVE-! _ ” Asriel shouted, baring his carnivorous fangs as Poppet laughed. The high-pitched waver trembled through her vines, her face ripped open by her sadistic grin. She hardly gave Frisk a moment to think, let alone prepare, as two vines then lashed forward.

Frisk stumbled out of the way just as a thick tendril smashed into the desk right behind them, cleaving it into shrapnel. Bits of flying wood pattered against Frisk’s legs as they heaved, scrambling along the edge of the wall only for another vine to block the path. The twisting tendril crashed against the shelves, spitting broken books and slivers into the air. Poppet giggled gaily while Frisk reeled backwards, nearly being whipped by another vine—yet Asriel managed to deflect the lash with his pellets.

 

Poppet cackled, “You call yourself a monster? What kind of attack is that?!”

 

With a sneer, Asriel directed his shot, and sent pellets flying towards the abomination dressed in red. Each pellet cracked against her chest, and one even sent her head backwards. She hung in mid-air like this, Frisk and Asriel were left tense, and staring. Then, she giggled, her head rolling forward once again. Her voice became eerily strained, mixed with a darker, masculine tone.  **“Weak. You are both,** **_weak!_ ** **”**

 

Sweat began to roll down along Frisk’s face, left standing in horrified awe at the monster blocking the exit. Asriel bared his teeth, straining as the doll continued to spit venom. “Give me your Ticket, and I’ll make your deaths quick. Otherwise _ ,  _ **_I will rip it from your shattered corpses!_ ** **”**

 

Frisk clenched their teeth, and braced themselves against the floor, eyeing the hovering abomination before them. Crimson light bathed the room from the tall, false windows at their back, casting the room into a hellscape. They weren’t given much time to think, for then Poppet lashed out again. Her vines whistling through the air as they careened towards them. The child bid their time, until the last possible moment, where they leapt diagonally forth, barely ducking beneath the assault as the whips gouged the ground just behind their ankles.

 

“Keep moving, Frisk-! I’ll try holding her off, just get us out of this room!” Asriel shouted, the twisting pellets hovering around the two of them while Frisk stumbled, and jerked back from a vine that slashed the shelves at their side. Debris raining down upon them both in a shower of splinters.

 

**“You think you can escape?!** **_No one escapes Carnivale!_ ** **”** Poppet chortled, her vines taking careful turns to attempt lashing the determined soul tripping---and yet somehow evading--- every snap of the thorny whips.

 

Asriel howled, his teeth bared to the room as he whirled his pellets against the vines that came too close. Crisp flashes of light sparked the air with each crack of a burst pellet. Frisk was quick on their feet, but they could only move so fast. The child strafed, feigned, and double backed in every attempt to avoid being hit by misleading Poppet’s attack. Sweat soon gathered upon Frisk’s brow, stinging their eyes as they panted and continued to keep moving. Not given any time to rest, their movements orchestrated by the doll’s assault. This way, and then that. Back, and then forth. The splintered remains of the desk, and the shelves, were kicked all across the room by Frisk’s desperate attempts to try ducking past the onslaught, but each time they saw an opening, multiple vines would crash into the floor. The foundation was cracking beneath their feet, uneven and unfair.

 

Poppet’s crazed smile followed Frisk’s attempts, and she raised the tempo. Each vine thrashing in a rhythmic pattern to where Asriel was forced to send multiple pellets in quick succession, a high staccato of a devil’s dance. The doll began to chuckle, and just as Frisk dodged, a vine flew for their landing space. Asriel was quick about deflecting the vine, but there was a second having shadowed the first. With a yelp, Frisk was batted across the room like a fly. Asriel clung to the backpack as they both were tossed, he let out a shout as Frisk crashed to the ground, their body reverberating with the blow as they rolled amidst the debris.

 

The doll paused her motions, her vines hovering across the width of the room. Wriggling tentacles itching for the blood that dribbled from Frisk’s nostril, down their lips and clung to the edge of their chin. The child groaned, disoriented. Frisk turned their body around, bracing down against the floor with both hands and pressed themselves up from the ground on shaky legs. A deep ache swelled within their ribs. Asriel glared up from Frisk’s dusty shoulder, sweat slipping from his petals like dew drops. He hadn’t accounted for the possibility of such an unfair attack, tears welled within his eyes.

 

**“Is this all you have, Human?”** Poppet scoffed, their voice an odd intermingling of tones.  **“I had a feeling you weren’t from here, and over hearing you sniveling children in the bathroom only solidified that fact. Where ever you come from, it must be pretty pathetic. You come here, acting as if you are our savior when all you have to offer is “kindness,” and the “promise that you will help us.” Hah-! You could never undo the damage your people have caused.”** Her grin tucked higher within her cheeks, a crimson sheen flickering across her button eyes. **“Besides, there’s no way you could ever win the sunset key from the Ticket Master if you can’t even beat me during a warm up! Now, hold still, and accept your fate!”**

 

Just as she spoke, her vines sailed forth, and Frisk growled as they were set back into motion. Poppet’s attacks assailed just behind their feet, leading them around the room in a serpentine. Frisk had no choice but to keep moving, hiking their knees high, sprinting even as their black hair stuck to their sweaty features and scratched at the back of their neck. Asriel did his best to deflect the vines, but the attacks were coming down harder, and his pellets could only swat the whips off course---sending them veering off this way, and that. The thorny vines tore through the rug on the floor, cracked through the cement below, and disfigured the once tidy shelves lined with texts. The battlefield was soon turning into a horrid obstacle course, littered with broken remnants that had once decorated the room.

 

Frisk’s boots crunched the wooden shrapnel adorning the floor, caked in bits of dust and pebbled concrete. The blow Poppet had landed forced Frisk to grasp onto their side, their ribs pounding with an incredible ache. But Frisk was Determined to not let it slow them. Asriel honed in his focus, his pellets flying by the multitudes, creating a dazzling light show of white sparks as he sent out as many attacks as he could per vine. The constant onslaught drew a sneer onto Poppet’s features, her vines beginning to splay, and the thorns held poorly to Asriel’s attack. Heavy daggers broke and fell to the ground, some simply bounced, while others pierced the floor and remained upright.

 

**_“Give up, already-!”_ ** Poppet seethed, her attacks becoming even faster, but all the sloppier. One by one her vines crashed into the floor, their fibers straining to remain held together as Frisk skipped and dodged around each flailing pair.

 

Asriel panted, his pellets swirling up around the both of them, as soon as one was dusted against a whip, a new one was in line to be thrown. He hissed through his teeth, “Just a bit more, Frisk. She’s starting to mess up, stay Determined-!”

 

He was right, this was a test of endurance. Poppet was beginning to lose patience in this game, but Frisk had experience, and will to continue. Against the throbbing pain in their side, Frisk held fast, and concentrated.

 

The vines sailing at them were beginning to lose their timing, and when one hit far too soon, Frisk leapt over it and bolted right for Poppet. The opening the vine left was too perfect a chance to pass up. The doll let out a wicked scream, and focused her free attacks right for the child.

 

“Frisk-! We won’t make that-!” Asriel shouted, his pellets faltering as he gaped at the four free flying vines, hurtling towards them with a sickly whistle. The child grunted, baring their teeth through a grimace and at the last possible second, slid to a halt. A great blow rammed into the floor right before them, sending up a huge cloud of dust and raining gravel as the vines embedded themselves within the foundation.

 

The two fell into a coughing fit, the spindling dust stinging their eyes. Frisk forced themselves to squint through the cloud, and found a mass of wriggling vines caught in the ground. They were stuck. Poppet was snarling from high above, her vines tugging and flailing about in an effort to free themselves.

 

Asriel continued to cough, but patted Frisk’s shoulder rapidly. “G-go-! Go,  _ go! _ ”

 

The child gasped, and launched themselves forward, sprinting around the coagulated column of wriggling vines. The doll shrieked then, and Frisk dug their heels into the ground as forcefully as they could, nearly jumping forward with each stride. The door was finally in their sights, bathed in a maroon hue from the windows across the room.

 

**_“YOU COWARD-! HOW DARE YOU RUN FROM A FIGHT!”_ ** Poppet screamed, her floating form shuddering with anger. She attempted to twist her body around, but the vines held her firmly in place, only being able to spit over her shoulder.  **_“WEREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME-?!”_ **

 

Frisk flung themselves for the door, grasping the handle with both hands just as the doll managed to free herself. Falling bits of rock clattered to the ground as her damaged vines lashed outwards, her body sailing right for them.

 

**_“NOBODY ESCAPES ME-! NOBODY ESCAPES CARNIVALE-!”_ **

 

With a great heave, Frisk pulled open the door and slipped through it just in time to slam the door behind them with enough force to shudder the trim. Within a split second, a harsh BANG rammed into the opposing side of the door. Frisk instantly braced themselves, extending their arms outward as their spine pressed into the hard, wooden surface. Frisk dug their heels against the floor, wincing and battling to keep the door closed as Poppet continued her onslaught. Howls of unholy rage echoed from the other side, the demanding, reverberating hits against the door shuddered through Frisk’s entire body. Asriel was panting, and trying his best to also press against the door, even though it did little. Determined, they held their ground, and no amount of jostling could break them from the door.

 

Finally, after a few minutes, the banging suddenly ceased. And all was still. Frisk and Asriel were left huffing and puffing, beads of sweat dripping down their foreheads as they remained stubbornly shoved against the door. Experienced enough to know to not let their guard down. The only sound was that of their rushed breathing, desperately trying to calm their racing hearts. With a few more peaceful minutes, Frisk slowly stepped from the door, and turned around to look upon the cracked, nearly broken, surface.

 

“Shhit… that was  _ way _ too close.” Asriel puffed, leaning upon Frisk’s shoulder, just as much in awe as they were. He tilted his head towards his sibling, panting. “Are you alright…?”

 

Frisk simply nodded, their eyes shielded by the straight cut of their dark bangs. Beads of sweat trickled down their cheek, blood smeared in a rusty stain across their lips. They brought up their hand, smudging at the trail with the back of their hand, and just managed to wipe away the hints of damage. Frisk knew just how hard a monster could hit… And while Poppet was certainly a challenge, Sans---The Ticket Master---would be impossible to win against. Poppet was right about that. The skeleton back in their own timeline was quick, surprisingly so for his lax attitude. But this place, Carnivale, only the strongest of monsters had survived. Their minds, however… were a different matter entirely.

 

Fighting was out of the question, it had always been. If the key to solving this anomaly was the carousel, if Poppet was telling the truth, they’d need to get the Ticket Master’s permission. They’d need his trust. And the best way to do that, was to figure out what had happened to Papyrus.

 

“Hey,” Asriel murmured, slipping a leaf under Frisk’s bangs, lifting them out of the way of their downcast eyes. “It’ll be okay. We made it out of there alive, we can do this. We know where to go now.”

 

Frisk lifted their head, sniffling blood from their nostrils, coating their throat in coppery flavors. They met their brother’s eye, and Asriel placed Frisk’s bangs back into place, settling his leaves across his stem as he spoke. “We have that key that Poppet hid in the kitchen. Those notes were saying how Papyrus used to crash in the spare room, I’m sure we’ll find  _ something _ of his. He leaves those actions figures everywhere back home.”

 

Asriel’s subtle enthusiasm to keep going kindled that spark of curiosity back within Frisk, they felt a gentle glow of warmth within them, and nodded curtly. Frisk remained silent as they left withered door behind and stepped back down the hall towards the door they had passed by before. Right as they came to a halt before the lock, Asriel held the key out over Frisk’s shoulder. The child smiled gently, taking the item and staring at the charcoal covered brass. They had certainly earned this token, now.

 

Without further hesitation, Frisk slid the key into the lock, and turned it. A rather loud CRACK rang out throughout the hallway, and the both of them paled as Frisk stood motionless, the butt end of the key hovering above the keyhole where the remainder was now lodged firmly inside. A silence permeated throughout the hall, they both stared at the door in genuine bewilderment. Asriel’s stem quaked, and he suddenly bared his teeth, his petals shuddering as he bellowed.  _ “You have got to be kidding me-! WHY DOES EVERYTHING SUCK HERE-!?” _

 

Frisk let go of the key fragment, letting it hit the floor. They heaved a great sigh, and bowed their forehead against the wooden door. Unexpectantly, the door creaked open from Frisk’s nudge. The child straightened up, their eyes wide and brimming with awe. Asriel simply gave a relieved laugh, rubbing his features with his leaves. His voice came high pitched, yet heavy with fatigue. “It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it? It’s never going to stop.”

 

The child let out a soft laugh, shaking their own head. Fatigue coursed through their body, but they knew they had to press on. So, they did. Frisk gently pressed open the door, allowing it to swing inward on its own. A soft creaking permeated the stillness, and the light from the hallway poured within the small guest room. Quaint décor met them, far different from the theme of the Rose Garden. It was a child’s room. A large, soft blue rug laid across the hardwood floor. A twin bed nestled neatly at the side of the room, a large trunk sitting forgotten at the foot of it. A simple writing desk sat nestled on the other side of the room, a waste basket propped at its base.

 

Slowly, Frisk eased inside, and felt the wall for the light switch. With a subtle click, the ceiling light illuminated the room with comforting white light. Blinking, the children swept their gazes side to side. Asriel then breathed, “Well, where should we look first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this new story! Next stop, Papyrus' room and what happened to him.


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